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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29637909">Her Own Brand of Womanhood</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinamotoHierophant/pseuds/MinamotoHierophant'>MinamotoHierophant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mina's RP Auditions [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ethlyn is an iconic sister, Jugdral is underrated, Mentioned Cian | Quan (Fire Emblem), Mentioned Duke and Duchess of Chalphy, Mentioned Siglud | Sigurd (Fire Emblem), Self-Reflection, Short One Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:54:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29637909</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinamotoHierophant/pseuds/MinamotoHierophant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethlyn ponders as she struggles with sewing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mina's RP Auditions [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022797</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Her Own Brand of Womanhood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ethlyn had never been a normal noblewoman. A small yelp escaped her as a petite pearl of red emerged near the tip of the sewing needle. For the fifth time this evening, Ethlyn had managed to poke herself while attempting to improve her needlework skills. She had always hated sewing lessons as a child; everything was too dainty and fiddly for her. The Chalphite girl had much preferred gallivanting about the family estate on Boand, her steed. The oak-hued stallion had been a gift from Sigurd for her seventh birthday, so the horse was all the more valuable to Ethyln because of it. Exploring the nooks and crannies of the huge manor house or navigating the grounds had always been ever so much more enticing than sitting still in a stifling room with her tutors.</p>
<p>Looking back on it, maybe she should have paid a bit more attention to her tutors now that the noblewoman realized she hardly knew how to do many of the ladylike things that were expected of her. She had never felt the need to since Sigurd had never made a fuss about her lack of interest. As she looked down at the work on her lap, a feeling of dread welled up within her. Ethlyn had been working on mending the same tunic all evening, and she was only halfway done with it. And with the nack that Sigurd had for ruining clothes during training and battle, she’d have to figure out how to become more efficient.</p>
<p>Ever since Mother had passed away, things felt so different. Both father and Sigurd had been more of a mess than ever, throwing themselves into their work with a reckless yet forlorn abandon. Ethlyn had always worried about them, but now more than ever before. It had only been in seeing the disheartenment of her father and brother in the wake of her mother’s passing that the noblewoman realized how inadequate she was to care for them and her future husband. The Chalphite would never dream of letting go of her adventurous spirit; it was who she was, and it had always made people smile, her zeal for new things. But, Ethlyn wanted to be able to care for the people closest to her. </p>
<p>And so she turned her attention back to one of Sigurd’s many ripped tunics that still lay spread over her lap. By some small miracle, none of her blood had gotten on the white fabric, thankfully. The next few stitches went smoothly without puckering, drawing the two halves together again. It wasn’t long before her mind began to wander, pulling a needle through fabric starting to become rote. Her dear brother had written her a few letters during his time at the academy in Belhalla. They had mostly been asking how things were going at home and what she was up to, but he had told her of the friends he had made. </p>
<p>Ethlyn had been ever so glad when Sigurd had invited them to visit the estate. Their visit made her glad for a few reasons. Mainly, that Sigurd’s friends could still cheer him up despite his grief. It was good to see him truly smile again. But also, her brother’s friends were far from hard on the eyes. Especially the calm and collected manner in which Lord Quan carried himself, the way that he spoke which brimmed with planned confidence, she found it captivating. Between his looks, his composure, and his skill with a horse and lance, Ethlyn found him exceptionally attractive. </p>
<p>The noblewoman went to make another stitch in the tunic, only to realize she had finally finished mending it. A satisfied grin bubbled up and overflowed her countenance. Once Ethyln set her mind to a thing it would happen, one way or another. It turned out that learning all the ladylike things later in life wasn’t impossible for her, but it would take her trademark stubbornness to make them happen. But maybe that was for the best. If she could learn how to do these things on her own, she could make them her own, and that was special. The Chalphite woman stood, quickly creasing the tunic and folding it neatly. She could, and she would learn how to care for father and Sigurd and catch the eye of Lord Quan, all in her way. And so, Ethlyn resolved to find her own brand of womanhood.</p>
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